


The Noise in the Distance

by StainedGlassDreams



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier - Fandom
Genre: Black Panther - Freeform, Flashbacks, More tags and characters to be added, Original Character(s), Vasily Karpov - Freeform, Wakanda, post-black panther, vibranium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StainedGlassDreams/pseuds/StainedGlassDreams
Summary: He never thought this could happen, that HYDRA, Russia, all of it can never have control of him again. He's been given a second chance, and he'll never stop fighting to earn it.Filling in the blanks before, during and after Black Panther, and the road to Infinity War...





	1. Intro

Once upon a time, there was a fearless warrior. The warrior was revered by all in the land for his kindness, bravery and fearlessness; and feared by those who didn't know him.  
He waged in wars upon wars, winning each time.  
But the town never noticed his smile turning to solemnity, and his eyes holding a sadness no one should ever even know of.  
One day, in his old age, the warrior's grandson walks up to the hero not with revelry or awe, but as a man. And then asks "Grandfather, what would you tell yourself, if you were my age?"  
The warrior, the strong facade falling apart to just this one young man, with the eyes he had so long ago, says with the eyes of sadness no one noticed "All wars are pointless. The only ones that matter, are for those we care for. And that isn't in the battlefield." He then points a tired finger to the boy's chest. "That's here."


	2. Beginning

Fog hovers over the water like steam against a mirror as Bucky steps out of the hut and into the night.  
There isn't a sound, not wind rustling the trees against themselves, nor any sign of life; other than the sound of his own bare feet cracking the forest floor underfoot as he makes his way to the mouth of the lake ahead.  
His movements are almost robotic as he reaches the edge, kneels with one knee and pauses slightly before he extends his right hand, fingertips barely skating over the surface. His own reflection becomes mildy distorted by the ripples from his touch, before being replaced by his younger self in his old war uniform, looking slightly dishelved. Hair tussled, uniform torn and that thousand yard stare in his retinas  
His breath holds, as the altered reflection looks back at him asking "Who are you, really?"

Bucky wakes up and steadies himself, the dream clinging to his skin along with the sticky balm of the night air. He looks toward the entry, judging by the brightness of the moonlight creeping onto the floor from the breaks of the curtain, it's 3-maybe 4 in the morning.  
He closes his eyes, lungs trying to catch with his heart as he tries to get himself to go back to sleep. Within a few moments, he sighs, his body conceding with the fact mind already knew: it wasn't happening.

He steps outside, and no matter how many times he's seen this view, he doesn't think it will ever fail to leave him momentarily breathless. The sky is unlike anywhere he's ever been; every constellation, every star and the milky way is visible, devoid of light pollution or skyscrapers. The wind sweeps past him as he closes his eyes and suddenly remembers his Father and him the last summer they spent in Indiana. The night sky, clear as this, wind hitting his face just as this as a small, ten year old him had constellations pointed out to Bucky by his Father. "And that one?" He asks, military tone hidden in the question.  
"There." He says quickly, proving he hasn't forgotten.  
"Very good, son. Never forget those stars. Even if we can't see them in the city anymore, you should never forget these." "Because they guide us?" He asks. "Yes. See that one? That reminded me where home was, when I was in the war. That one, is Cassiopeia, you were born under that star. Along with the winter star, but because it's spring, you can't see it now, it doesn't mean it's not there." "Isn't that what maps are for, Pop?" "Yes and no, Jay. Maps can break, get lost or even measured wrong. But the stars; even though they disappear for a short while, they never leave. Because all the stars you see, no matter how far, or how dark-"

"-the stars will always guide you back home." He completes the rest of sentence softly, in a forest of Wakanda far from the field in Indiana that was shrinking back to the realms of his heart; not entirely disappearing, but absorbing into the soft Earth around him.  
The moment of calm is abrupted as he notices his right hand now on his left shoulder, where half a red star still remains. A wave of nauseating fear lands in the bottom of his stomach as he remembers the last thing he remembers Zemo saying. "I mean, your real home.", a dull red book he prayed had burned along with Serbia, and yet he knew, never did.

He walks to the edge of the water, following the repetition of the nightmare and swallowing the newfound lump in his throat before he slowly dips his hand in, splashing his face with the cupped water.  
The dream has grown so familiar now, having been the only thing he's dreamt in the past few days. In English or Russian, his wavy reflection asks him "Who are you really?". Sometimes it's him in Azzano. Other times: Siberia. A part of him hasn't acknowledged that in every variation of the dream, the night sky is devoid of the stars.  
Water drips from his face as he stares upward, the stars staring back at him silently. And a part of him worries if he can find a path back home again.


	3. Stolen

Vienna- 1945

{Translated from German}

"-forces, pull them to the..."  
"Commander." The soldier saluted, in his new civillian clothes. "Herr Steicher is here."  
"Send him in. Gentlemen." The Commander dismissed the three senior offices in the room, filing out as a side door in the wide office opened to show another younger man escorting a brown haired youth, with blue eyes. "Herr Steicher. I pray you have good news."  
The brown haired man grinned, placing a silver suitcase onto the table. "The best."  
The Commander walked to the desk, greedy hands hiding themselves as he flicked the case open. The first soldier trying to peek in. "My God. ...Who?"  
"The Headmistress. Of course. Her youngest prodigy, Romanova or other, helped lay the foundations. The Widow program is one we can't ignore."  
"Yes." He holds a small metallic cube, glistening in his palm. "You are correct. Send double the usual payment to the Headmistress. And, my respects." The Commander notices the first soldier's curiosity. "Karpov."  
He stands attention. "Sir, I'm-"  
"Don't be. You have remained loyal, even as the promises we could almost taste crumbled. So, it's only right we reward you." He stepped aside, allowing Karpov to see the interior. 2 metallic cubes were the only contents, much to the man's confusion. "Commander..."  
"These small cubes are the most powerful substance in the world. Most of it used on their star spangled patriarch..." The Commander spit on the ground, anger rushing to his cheeks. "...but loose lips sinks ships. And Howard Stark in one of his drunken rants, slipped to a young Widow that he had a small reserve in his former lab. I'm showing you because I want you to understand the great things we are going to do with this. Not perfection, given that such little component must be combined now with perhaps titanium-a true shame-, but it will bring a weapon you will come to see. That you will help breed."  
He motioned to the second soldier. "Fetch the Doctor for me."


	4. The Sun

He wakes up, a mixture of the dream and the built in soldier instinct of someone being in the tent.  
It's quiet, though he hears someone trying to hold their breath.  
"< You can come out. >" He says to the vase to his left, a small boy showing himself as he slowly rose up.  
"< What's your name? >"  
The boy giggles softly.  
"< What? >" He asks, now sitting completely up.  
"< You're saying it wrong. >"  
He smiles, forgetting much of Wakandan language wasn't shared with HYDRA so it came mixed and diluted with local dialects.  
"Why don't you show me."  
The boy comes close, sitting on the floor. He pronounces it, small clicks between words that he was missing.  
"< Like that. >" The boy smiles, infectiously spreading it to Bucky.  
A small silence passes before the child, who has been looking up at Bucky, this strange white figure with long hair, with a mix of intrigue and fear. "< Sister Shuri says you need rest. Why? >"  
He breathes in, looking down. "< I forgot who I was for a while. A friend of mine found me, brought me back to your King and Princess. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here. >"  
The boy looks at him, trying to process. A few more moments. "< Why do you look like a wolf? >"  
"< What do you mean? >"  
He flicks Bucky's hair. "< Like this. >"  
"< I'm too used to winters. >" He half jokes, the child looking at him.  
The moonlight dawns on him. "< You should be in bed. >"  
"< You can tell the time without looking at the sky, or a watch? >" He seems to touch his wrist, seeing the time somehow. He looks back at Bucky, his face puzzled. "< You really are a wolf. >" He giggles, leaving.  
"< Hey! >" Bucky calls as the boy stops. "< What's your name? >"  
"Nomlanga." He smiles, before leaving.  
He chuckles softly to himself, another irony to add to his life. He knows his Wakandan is rusty but he thinks he remembers it. It means the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boy's name does mean the Sun in Xhosa, one of the languages that inspired Wakanda's dialect in the film :)


End file.
